I also told Aunt Belle to see about relining my mink cape and muff.
Then he will return to the Great Lake and trap the marten and the mink.
Mink arose, but no sooner was he on his feet than his courage returned.
Mink is a dead shot, and probably wire-edged with whisky and expecting me.
Mink was not in sight, but the barkeeper stood rigidly on duty.
But when, a few hours ...